


Sable

by community_gardens



Category: Adventure Time
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Hair Brushing, Marceline doesn't take care of herself, Shapeshifting, Wing Grooming, Wings, literally just fluff, self-care
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:55:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23931913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/community_gardens/pseuds/community_gardens
Summary: Marceline runs into some issues with her shape shifting. Bonnibel is more than willing to help her.
Relationships: Princess Bubblegum & Marceline, Princess Bubblegum/Marceline
Comments: 6
Kudos: 217





	Sable

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime before 'Varmints', kind of a prelude to that episode. This is before Bonnibel is deposed in the candy kingdom.
> 
> I got this idea when I saw Marceline shape shifting wings to fly in Varmints and thought it was pretty cute so

Marceline was suddenly acutely aware of why she rarely used her wings. She was perfectly capable of flying without them, after all. Levitation generally made for a much better mode of transport. Unfortunately for her, the vampire had forgotten that particular detail. Even more unfortunate was that her realization came in the form of a mass of painfully tangled feathers sprouting from her back. 

Marceline lets out a long groan, ignoring the incessant itching already beginning between her shoulder blades to fall flat on her back. When was the last time she had decided to use her wings? It had to be at least a couple of years at this point, right? She squints up at the ceiling, cursing herself for her forgetfulness. Her wings hadn't been groomed in an embarrassingly long amount of time, that much was apparent. With a sinking feeling, the queen lets out another sigh. 

"Maybe I can just put them away, yeah? Let them be for a little while longer…" But Marceline already knew that it could never be so simple. Her shoulder blades would simply itch until she brought her wings back out and dealt with them. Still, she let them melt back into her skin anyway, childishly hoping otherwise. She wasn't so lucky. Glob, why had she ever decided to use the damned things in the first place. 

Still, not willing to admit defeat, Marceline screws her eyes shut in a vain attempt to ignore the prickly sensation. No dice. Her thoughts stubbornly wandered back to the itching pain flaring up across her spine in protest. Right, avoidance was a no. 

Flinging herself from her position on the ground, the vampire dejectedly manifested her wings once more. It was times like these that Marceline cursed not having a reflection. Still, she did her best to twist around and survey the damage, glaring childishly at the clumps of messy and twisted feathers. A few looked painfully broken and splayed about and she winced at the thought of having to pull them out. Still, Marceline stretched out a wing so she could reach it's tip, attempting to straighten the disorderly primaries.

Her spine creaked in protest as she twisted to access her wing, having to bend it around her at the same time. It was rather uncomfortable, to say the least. After a few moments of cumbersome maneuvering and uncomfortable itchiness, Marceline throws up her hands in defeat, groaning loudly. All she had to show for her efforts was a small pile of feathers littered around her room.

"Shit." It seemed that, despite her best efforts, this was something Marceline couldn't do on her own. Maybe she knew that all along. She just hoped that she'd be miraculously wrong. Unfortunately, fate never seemed to work in her favor.

Marceline mentally went through her list of friends, scowling at it's brevity. Finn and Jake were good friends, admittedly, but the thought of Finn's clumsy hands tugging on her wings made her shudder. Jake was nice but she wasn't particularly close to him. No, this was an issue she couldn't bring to those two. BMO's little hands probably wouldn't be much use either. Briefly, the thought of Simon crossed her mind. With it came a long-buried memory; a soft melody and the feeling of kind hands carding through her hair. Tiny legs swinging happily. She flinched at the thought. No, not Simon.

Almost tentatively Marceline comes to the last name on her mental checklist, regarding it warily. Bonnibel. Memories of an old cabin flooded her mind, worn wooden floors beneath her as a friend chattered happily behind her. Soft fingers sifting gently through tangled feathers. Her heart inexplicably stuttered in it's dormancy. Her and Bonnibel had been better recently. She was able to call the candy golem her friend again, but it was a delicate balance. Marceline would show up some nights to fly her away, treading carefully on newly mended bridges. Would this be too much? Was it too soon? The mildly panicked line of thought was terminated suddenly by a rather viscous onset of irritation in her shoulder blades.

Caution thrown to the wind, Marceline tugs on a jacket and hurriedly tumbles through her front door. Retracting her wings, the vampire shoots into the night air. The cool breeze soothes her somewhat, as do the stars hanging above her. They do little to slow her frantic pace, however.

Despite her apprehension, the visage of the candy kingdom appearing on the horizon sends waves of relief crashing over her. The relief doesn't stop the slight anxiety in her gut as she settles on Bonnibel's windowsill, however. Still, the discomfort drives her to knock lightly against the wall, causing the princess to jump in her seat.

"Oh! Marceline, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Bonnibel tiredly rubs at her eye, turning away from her desk to face her friend.

"Oh uh…" Marceline falters, feeling heat rising to her ears despite her long-defunct circulatory system. She really hadn't thought this through, had she? After a few moments of quiet contemplation, and some rather jumbled thoughts, Marceline allows herself to speak. "I need your help, Bon." The words are hurried, forced from her mouth all in one breath.

Bubblegum grants her a quizzical look but says nothing, inviting her to continue. 

Her efforts are met only with a lofty sigh as Marceline brings out her wings in defeat, eyes decidedly downcast. The ground below her is immediately littered with a few stray feathers, her wings looking even worse than before. Any progress she had made earlier was mitigated, the shapes sprouting from her back looking only vaguely wing-like in their disrepair. She hears a faint gasp and the rustling of furniture from across the room before Bonnibel is at her side.

"Oh, Marce, your wings, you- when is the last time you…" the princess's questioning trailed off as she took in the damage with a wince. Marceline merely shrugged, not lifting her gaze from the floor. With a concerned hum, Bonnie took Marceline's arm and gently led her over to her bed. Tugging her friend down after her, Bonnie shed her lab coat. 

It looked like Marceline would say something for a moment, but she only let out an awkward hum, stretching out her wings. Nonetheless, Bonnie got the message, glancing at the carnage unhappily. She had never seen them in such a state before. Of course, she was aware that Marceline tended to be neglectful, but Bonnie had always used to help her groom her wings relatively often. The monarch’s heart panged briefly at the thought of how many times Marceline had to deal with this discomfort on her own before abruptly soaring at the fact that she had been trusted with the task again.

Even now, Bonnibel still remembered the routine. Her hands instinctively settled at the base of Marceline’s wings, knowing it best to work from there outwards (if only to provide some relief to Marceline's discomfort). Her fingers sunk effortlessly into the mass of glossy sable feathers and she felt Marceline tense under her before letting out a sigh, melting into the princess’s touch. Bonnibel elects to stay silent for now, though she was brimming with questions (mostly having to do with her friend’s apparent lack of care). 

Her hands easily remembered how to sift through tangled clumps of feathers, making sense of the chaotic mess before her. She methodically straightened and smoothed the ruffled surface, Marceline relaxing more and more with every stroke. Though she made a muffled noise the first time a broken feather was pulled, the vampire soon retreated back into comfortable silence. 

Marceline hummed happily as Bonnibel’s deft movements eased the flaring discomfort in her spine. She rubbed away irritating prickles and soothed tense flight muscles, removed broken feathers and rubbed away the ichor left in their place so that new ones could grow in their stead. It was with a methodic calm that Bubblegum soothed Marceline’s aching. It struck her then, in a rather uncomfortable certainty, that she felt _safe._ The revelation was one she was simultaneously worried and exhilarated by.

The feeling of Bonnibel’s soft hands in her feathers was one Marceline had nearly forgotten, the memory dangling on the cusp of being obsolete. Now, reliving it again, Marceline couldn't help but ache over all the times she had missed this. As the princess finished preening the last of the small feathers coating her shoulder blades, Marceline felt the itching, burning discomfort held there melt away. It sent waves of relief crashing heavily over her, culminating in a shaking sigh. She was in no way done, but the bulk of her discomfort had dissipated.

Bonnibel caught the cue, passing over the small patches of smoothed down feathers a few times before glancing up at the back of Marceline’s head. “You know, your wings have never gotten this bad before, Marcy,” It was a statement, barely a murmur, but the words held a silent invitation. A plea?

The vampire tensed, ears flattening for just a moment before she deflated. “Yeah. I guess they haven't.”

The princess only hummed, continuing to inspect her work. "Well. You can come over any time, you know. I'll be here to help you." She wanted to say more. So much more. She wanted to ask a million questions, she wanted to scold her, she wanted to apologise. _Too soon,_ she chided herself. She would have to settle for this and hope that Marceline could feel all the things she didn't say. Feel it in her tone, in the way her hands stilled over black feathers.

Marceline shifted, heat inexplicably rising once more. She gulped. "I know," and she did.

Bonnibel smiled lightly, moving to start preening the rest of Marceline's wings. Conversation came easily after that. Sometimes Marceline would get started on a long, rambling tale and Bubblegum would listen intently, interjecting here and there. Other times it would be Bonnie's turn to talk aimlessly. Sometimes there was silence permeated by soft humming or quiet singing. Both knew that they had missed this. It was a comfort for Marceline and Bonnie enjoyed the menial task it presented. Though, they really just wanted to be close to one another. 

It was so that, despite meandering through her grooming, Bonnibel eventually finished. She gazed happily at the pristine wings before her, trailing her fingers over them once more. Beside her lay a pile of neatly stacked sable feathers. 

"You finished back there, Peebs?" Marceline craned her neck to see, grinning contentedly at the neatly groomed wings. 

Bonnibel only hummed, patting a wing before surveying Marceline. She didn't quite want her to go, not yet. Her eyes settled on the vampire's mass of tangled hair, jet black and unruly, just like her feathers. "Stay here a moment," she murmured, standing and crossing the room to rummage about in a drawer. She smiles in triumph as she produces a hairbrush, turning to make her way back to Marceline.

The queen only shot her a quizzical look, wings put away as the princess settled behind her again. "Bonnie you know you don't have to…" it was an empty protest. 

"I know, but I want to. You don't mind, do you?" Her hands went still holding the brush, awaiting a signal from Marceline. A happy hum is all the confirmation she needs before smiling, setting about untangling the vampire's hair. There were some large knots she had to push through, though there were no whining complaints this time. 

The pair fell into a rhythm. Easy conversation, humming, soft brush strokes in sable hair. Marceline was, admittedly, unbelievably happy at the development. She had always loved it when Bonnibel brushed her hair. Her movements were infallibly soft and gentle, filling her mind with a static calm. She never thought of the past when Bonnie did that. Her mind was fixed firmly in the present, grounded by kind murmurs and soft humming.

At one point Marceline may have scoffed at this, not finding merit in the almost sickeningly domestic practice. Luckily, current Marceline was all too willing to get sucked into Bonnibel's spur of the moment hair brushing session. She lets out a pleased sigh, melting into the princess's touch eagerly. It felt as if she was being dragged further and further down with every slow stroke of the brush, lulled into a dark security. Her mind faded away from conversation, the only thing filling her thoughts was the sweet melody the princess hummed from behind her.

Perhaps the vampire nodded off a few times. Perhaps Bonnibel knew. Even if she did, it didn't stop her from passing the brush gently through Marceline's hair long after all the knots had been tamed. Bonnibel merely smiled, discarding the brush to softly run her fingers through the sleeping queen's hair. 

Yes, Marceline was safe here. She always had been. 

  
  



End file.
